From Minor to Major
by JediKnightoftheRougeSquadron
Summary: Ash Newman is a normal girl until she finds out that her mom is some crazy goddess of magic, and she's also being host of/possessed another goddess of magic, and wait, what in the name of Ra is her best friend doing while being possessed by a giant snake?
1. I never knew detention was interesting

**First Kane Chronicles/Percy Jackson fanfic, yay! Well, first crossover between the two. Please review! **

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**A**

**S**

**H**

The end of the world started during detention.

"Dang it!" Nick's pencil halted over the paper. "How do you spell _ghost_?"

Daniel scrunched up his face and squinted like he was trying to remember. "G-o-s-t-e?" he offered.

Angel gave Daniel a look that could be interpreted as either _Shut up_ or _Why are you answering?_ He turned back to Nick and said under his breath, "G-h-o-s-t."

Yeah, Angel is a guy. A curly-haired, Hispanic guy. Get over it.

I was doodling on my essay that I'd just finished, having actually done half of it the night before. Nick had actually finished his essay the night before, but it was riddled with spelling errors. Mr. Mason, our history teacher, had yelled at him in front of the entire class, practically spraying spit in his face about his lack of spelling skills. He'd pointed everything wrong with the paper on the document camera in front of the entire class, had given Nick an F, and had proceeded to give Nick detention for "maiming the use of the English language". Daniel, Angel, and I had stood up for Nick and were given double detention, one for talking back, one for not finishing our essays. Not only are Daniel, Angel, and I ADHD, but we're also slackers.

See, Nick isn't a bad student. He's actually really smart. But he, Daniel, and I all have dyslexia, so we can't read _or_ spell.

So Daniel and I have both ADHD and dyslexia. Aren't we so lucky? Angel is so lucky, no dyslexia for him, just major ADHD. And Nick only has dyslexia, although it's much worse than what Daniel and I have.

So here we were in detention, and I was not doing anything except drawing manga, because I can't draw at all, except for manga. I felt like there was an eternity left in detention. But then a shadow fell over me.

"Miss Newman? May I ask what you're doing?"

I'm screwed.

"I'm doodling."

"Yes, I can see that. Where's your essay?"

"I'm doodling on it, sir. Or are your tiny eyes in your fat face to small to comprehend that?" I snapped.

I know, it was uncalled for, but I was in a foul mood, he'd bullied Nick a lot today, and I really hated the whole essay that I probably had made a grade worse than Nick on, which is saying something, since Nick had made a zero…my grade was probably somewhere in the negative one thousands. Yes, it's possible.

His jaw tightened, and I could tell I'd made a mistake, but I figured that as long as I was doing this, I might as well do this thoroughly. I was sick of Mr. Mason acting like all of us were idiots and acting like we couldn't understand anything.

"You don't deserve to be a teacher. You continually act like we're morons. You bully Nick and Daniel on a regular basis. You give Angel and me detention when we do nothing. You should go die in a hole!"

I stopped, my chest heaving. My three friends stared at me like I was crazy (which I probably am).

"Die in a hole? Why, certainly. But I'm taking you four with me!" And then he grabbed me.

Angel flew out of his chair practically automatically, and tackled Mr. Mason, because he's ADHD. That's just what he does.

But before he did, Mr. Mason had relinquished his hold on me, screaming from the purple fire coming off of me.

What on earth? Purple fire?

I went smashing into the blackboard, as Mr. Mason had practically shoved me in an effort to get away from the purple fire, getting covered in white chalk dust from Paul Revere's midnight ride's poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I curled up on my side, dazed and groaning, but then Peter, an office aide that I see every once in a while, yanked me to my feet and we started running like mad.

I stumbled along, my eyesight blurry. "Peter?"

"Not now," he said nervously. "We'll get to the band hall and then discuss this."

I was vaguely aware of Nick, Daniel, and Angel running along side us. I shook my head, trying to rattle my brain to clear it, and it seemed to kind of work. "Where's Mr. Rowan and Mr. Phillips?" I asked, referring to the band directors at our school.

"They went home," Peter said.

We were hiding in the percussion section, when Daniel asked shakily, "What the heck just happened?"

"I'm your protector, to protect you from Mr. Mason. He's a monster," Peter said simply.

Angel snorted. "Got that right."

"No, he's actually a monster out of Greek myths," Peter said. "He's a manticore."

"A what?" Nick asked.

"A manticore. It has a tail filled with spikes that can be flung."

And as he spoke, a spike impaled itself in the bass drum not an inch from his head.

We all scattered as more spikes flew. Daniel crawled behind the tubas, and Nick dived behind the chimes. Angel hid behind the bass drum, and Peter hid behind the timpani, while I crouched behind a xylophone.

"I know you're in here, godlings," Mr. Mason purred.

_Godlings?_ I mouthed at Peter. He only had a confused look in return.

Great. So we're being hunted down by a horrible monster and our "protector" had no idea what was going on. Just brilliant.

Spikes flew out of no where, most of them just warning shots, but there were some close calls.

And suddenly, there was a swirling vortex of sand next to the instrument case room, and two kids stepped out: a tan, curly-haired boy about my friends' age and a girl with fair skin and light hair about my age, and they stepped out of it, cursing. And another man followed them out of it. They started dueling with some sort of magic (you'd imagine I'd be freaked out by now, because of all this stuff, but I'd seen enough stuff already today to have me go into conniptions) until the girl shrieked, "_Ha-di_!"

And then the ceiling imploded.


	2. We Amazingly Don't Die

**All right, valiantly onward.**

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**S**

**H**

Nick found my hand under all the rubble and pulled me out. A thick layer of dust coated the air. Inhaling the fine powder meant coughing and hacking from both of us, but coughing made me think of Daniel.

My eyes flew to Nick's face in horror, and…well…I couldn't really _mime_ coughing, because I actually _was _coughing, so I just mouthed _Daniel_ at him. He understood, and we coughed and hacked our way to the tuba section, where we'd last seen him.

The only part of Daniel not entirely covered by rubble was his leg at an awkward angle, on top of which was a tuba. Nick and I digged under the debris to find the rest of him. He was extremely pale, had a nasty cut over one eye, and his breathing pattern was ragged.

Slowly but surely, the dust started clearing, and Peter and Angel made their way over to us. "I've got to get you all out of here."

I pointed to Daniel. "He goes first."

"I've got to get you all out safely. You're all hurt." I suppose it's true. Angel had made it out fairly unscathed, with only a few minor scrapes, but I had a limp, and Nick had several bruises the size of continents where the chimes had fallen on him. But compare to Daniel, we were the healthiest people on the planet.

"He has freaking _asthma_!" I shouted. "If he doesn't get out of here soon and get somewhere with an inhaler, he'll die!"

Okay, so maybe I exaggerated a little bit, but seriously, given the amount of dust in the air, he really could die from asthma.

Anyway, it must've convinced Peter to get him out of here, because he gingerly picked up Daniel, whose leg dangled limply. I winced, grateful that Daniel was unconscious. If he hadn't been, he would have had one heck of a broken leg on his hands.

Peter staggered his way out the exit, while Angel, Nick, and I searched for any other survivors: namely Mr. Mason, those two kids, and the guy that they were fighting. Luckily the instrument room hadn't collapsed, but entryway was so rubble-strewn that I didn't try to forage my way in. Good, because if all those instruments had gone up in smoke, it would've been all my fault, and Mr. Rowan and Mr. Phillips would've made sure that I'd understood that.

I found the kids under the rubble, cursing, but it looked like they were okay. I called Nick over to me.

"Hey, did you find anyone else?" I asked.

"I found some dust, like something had exploded near where Mr. Mason – pardon me, the manticore – had been standing, and unless the guy _they_," he pointed at the kids, "were fighting is not only a teleportist, but has several qualities like Tinker Bell, i.e. exploding into dust, I'm going to lay the odds that Mr. Mason exploded into monster dust, or whatever that is."

"So you haven't found him?"

"His name is Mr. Wirth," the boy said. When we both gave him odd looks, he said, "I just thought that you might want to stop referring to him as just him."

"Do you like him?"

"Nope." The girl said, popping the p. "Not really."

"So what do we do?" I asked Nick.

But he didn't have time to answer me because Mr. Wirth exploded out of the debris pile behind us and grabbed him.


End file.
